Sweet Nothing
by knightengales
Summary: Gale Finstock liked to stay in the background. The only things that really mattered were running, dancing, and academics. When something changes, surviving the next few weeks becomes more important. All those stories about the supernatural that her grandmother used to tell her aren't that crazy anymore. Isaac/OC. Rated M due to language.


Gale Finstock liked to stay in the background. The only things that really mattered were running, dancing, and academics. When something changes in the air, surviving the next few weeks becomes more important. All those stories about the supernatural that her grandmother used to tell her aren't that crazy anymore. Isaac/OC. Starts during "Unleashed." Will progress through season 3.

Please review. Like really. And if you also read my other story "It Doesn't Get Any Better Than This," don't worry, an update is coming on that soon. So review. On anything.

Please, I'll give you a hug.

* * *

"15 minutes!" Someone yelled throughout the classroom. Gale Finstock smiled and put her saxophone back in its case, before leaving the music classroom with the rest of the students.

Gale chatted animatedly with the few friends she had before waving them off and heading to an empty classroom (that was being renovated, so it currently lacked tile, in favor of the hard concrete that lie underneath) to practice for her dance recital, which would be in eight weeks time.

Being Coach Bobby Finstock's daughter often had its perk. With his being a teacher, she had almost full access any empty classroom she wanted. (She also had unlimited help with her economics homework; well, if she ever needed help with it.)

She stopped at her locker and pulled out the slightly squished, light green duffle bag. Gale took her time walking to the unused room, which now served as a makeshift dance studio.

When she reached it, Gale deposited her bags near the door and pulled out her pointe shoes from the duffle. Quickly throwing off her black converse, she tied the shoes up and pulled out her iPod and speakers.

Calvin Harris' "Sweet Nothing" soon filled the room. Gale made sure that the music would be loud enough for her to hear while she danced, but as not to distract any nearby classrooms.

Gale quickly started her turns and jumps in time to the music, practicing the routine she knew like the back of her hand.

Dancing was one of the few things that mattered the Gale. Running was another. Grade were next. However to Gale, but nothing could beat dancing and running. She lived off the blood pumping through her as she danced, off the pure burning of adrenaline as she ran.

Her dance practice was cut short, as she heard something. Gale paused the music. Was that a motorcycle? In the hallways? It was too loud to be outside; it had to be inside the school.

She walked from the classroom, still her in her pointe shoes, to the hallway.

From her place in the doorway to the classroom, she could see the back of one Isaac Lahey facing one of the new twins with his motorcycle. Was that Aiden? Ethan? She still couldn't tell them apart.

"Get off my bike," the twin growled out.

Isaac then flipped himself over the boy onto the ground. Where did he learn to flip like that? Gale still had trouble with front flips. That was definitely impressive. Front flips like needed really strong muscles, and Gale would know.

Isaac walked backwards, leaving the twin (Gale's think it's Aiden) with the bike as the class wanders out into the hall. Isaac meets her eyes and gives her a wink. She giggles a little.

"You have got to be kidding me. You realize this will result in a suspension?" Ms. Blake said, glaring at whichever one of the twins it was. It was only the third week of school; most years, someone didn't get suspended until the second month.

From her angle, she could tell that he had been glaring at none other than Scott McCall, Allison Argent, and Isaac Lahey, all of who looked very smug.

Everyone was talking and trying to figure out what was going on, when Ms. Blake looked Gale's way.

"And just what are you doing out of class, Miss Finstock?"

"Just taking advantage of a free period in the solace of an empty classroom, Ms. Blake. My dad said it would be okay," Gale said with a sweet smile, going back inside, trying to avoid the trouble of ditching her empty music class. Gale didn't bother to see if Ms. Blake was going to push or not, before resuming her rehearsal.

She danced for the rest of the period. Before Gale knew it, the period was over, and it was now time for her to return home.

Gale grabbed her saxophone, backpack, and dance bag. She walked to the front of the school, only to see one of the twins bike mostly disassembled. That would explain the angry twin boys, and the mischievous group of kids smirking.

Gale laughed a bit to herself, before beginning her walk home.

It was a relatively short walk, taking only fifteen minutes before she reached the small two story house.

Gale quickly locked the door behind her and set down her things.

"Honey, I'm home," Gale yelled in, as she walked through the house cautiously checking each room for something amiss and making sure everything was locked. When she had finished, Gale smiled to herself, knowing she was home alone save for her calico cat, Robin, who was taking a nap in her sink.

She made her way back downstairs, before throwing herself onto the couch with an obnoxious sigh.

Gale looked at the clock sitting on the small table set in front of her couch; it was barely 2:30. While she was thankful she got out of school early on C schedule days, Gale didn't like not having something to do other than homework during that time.

With a groan, Gale collected all of her school supplies and got to work on the enormous amount of homework she had. It was days like this when Gale worked for five hours to finish her school work, that she regretted taking four advanced placement courses.

Gale closed her physic text book, "I guess I should make dinner now." Gale often spoke to herself; a habit that her father says she gets from her mom. She pulled herself from that train of thought, it was still too painful.

Gale filled a pot with water, quickly adding some salt, before setting it on the stove to boil. She reached into one of the vast array of kitchen cabinets and pulled out a container with the uncooked noodles in it.

She reached into the freezer and pulled at a container of frozen pasta sauce, thankful she didn't need to make a new batch. Gale shimmied the frozen chunk of sauce into another small pot and set it to heat up.

As Gale began working on a small salad, she heard the phone ring.

"Finstock residence, Gale speaking," she said cheerfully into the phone.

But no voice responded. Gale didn't even hear breathing on the other side. The last time she got a call like that-No, he was in prison. Gale quickly hung up and shoved the phone away from her.

Gale slid to the floor. With her knees to her chest and head buried in her hands, she tried to calm herself down. "It's okay. You're okay."

She breathing started slowing to a pace much safer for her health. She looked at the clock; it was almost eight. Her dad would be home soon.

She could do this.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Gale focused on her breathing. Gale focused on the sound of simmering water. Gale focused on the cold wood flooring touching her bare feet. Gale focused on anything but the sound of a voice that seemed to echo through her mind. It was his voice. This was the other that the letter warned her about.

"_You will fight for me when the times come. Your power belongs to me."_

Gale shook her head. This wasn't real. It wasn't here right now. She was safe.

"Gale, I'm home," her dad's voice rang through the house.

"In the kitchen. Panicking. Someone called," Gale shakily voiced from her place on the floor.

Her dad was in the kitchen with her as soon as possible. He turned off the fire, which had been heating their dinner.

"It's okay, you're safe," Bobby Finstock said, a little awkwardly, as he knelt down in front of her. "I'm going to call the detective and Sheriff, okay?"

In less than ten minutes, the Sheriff and the detective working the druid case were sitting in the Finstock home, talking about different options on protecting Gale.

Meanwhile across town, Stiles unlocks the door to the McCall residence.

"Hello, anyone home? I got some important information to share!" Stiles yelled through the house, as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

"Scot's upstairs," Ms. McCall called from her place in the kitchen. "But Stiles, Isa-"

Before she could finish telling Stiles that Isaac was here, he had already run up the stairs to share whatever he had found. With a sigh, she returned to her tea.

"Scott, man, you're never going to believe what I found," Stiles began, but seeing Isaac sitting on the floor wrapped in blankets with Scott seated next to him. "Oh, Isaac. Hi."

"Derek kicked him out," Scott stated solemnly.

"Sorry, man," Stiles said with a nod in Isaac's direction. "Dude, I found something important. I was researching modern druids, and I found a serial killer from Washington that called himself 'The Druid.'"

"What?" Scott exclaims, "Do you think he could be the darach?"

"I don't think so, but listen, he started sacrificing people in the three fold death style. Then I read about how his ninth and last kill, three sets of three, was a prostitute and mother named Maison d'le Celeste."

"Alright, but how does that relate to us?" Scott asked.

"Maison had a daughter our age, who was threatened on many occasions by this druid guy. He left the daughter notes all time, calling her 'his nymph.' (Gross by the way, really gross) So after her mom was killed, the detectives on the case moved the girl to live with her father in Beacon Hills. Also the fact that a newspaper printed where a girl who was being stalked was sent to is the dumbest thing ever. Anyways, I looked through records that my dad has, and I found someone whose name included d'le Celeste. Gale Finstock. Gale d'le Celeste Finstock."

"No fucking way," Isaac said.

"That's not all. She moved her four years ago, right? Well, you know how like a few weeks ago these murders started happening; my dad's reports say that this druid guy sent her a letter that was marked the same day that Heather went missing. The letter was a warning for her. It said, and I quote, 'There's another. Watch out, my nymph.'"

"So this guy knows our guy, then?" Scott said.

"I don't think so. I think he knows about our darach, like he knows that something is happening. So then I started researching nymphs. Because, like, what if he meant the mythological creature and not the sex addict, what if nymphs are real, you know? There are four kinds: underworld, land, sea, and air, also known as celestial," Stiles said.

"Didn't you say the last name was Celeste?" Isaac said.

"Yeah, so I started looking at her name. Gale also means a gust of wind. So her name literally means gust of wind of the heavens. Anyways, when I looked at abilities and attributes for celestial nymphs, it said that they could move as if walking on air, so if nymphs were 'real' and in modern society then they would be dancers or runners."

"Gale dances," Isaac states. "She was dancing when we messed with the twins today."

"Yeah, and she's a cross country star. Coach told her that scouts were coming to see her for the next meet," Scott interjects.

"Yeah, she can literally move through the air like a champ, and you know how they found a body this morning? You'll never guess who my dad just got a call from saying that they think their stalker contacted them today."

"Fuck, we're going to have to tell her everything," Isaac sighed.

"What? No. No. Did I say no?" Stiles yelled with a flail of his arms. "We could get her killed if we tell her!"

"It sounds like she's going to get killed if we don't. What if she doesn't know she's a nymph?" Isaac responded. "Gale has always been nice to everyone, since she moved here. So, I'm sorry if I don't want a genuinely nice person to die if I can prevent it."

"You sure that you don't have a crush on her?" Stiles asked.

Isaac narrowed his eyes at the boy.

"Look, Isaac, we need to figure out what she knows we can stop the sacrifices. The less people involved the better," Scott rationalizes. "But that's a good point; what if she doesn't know what she is? That could be a real problem."

"How do you not know if you're a supernatural creature?" Stiles asked.

"Stiles, I didn't know what I was at first," Scott responded. "You literally told me like thirty times before I actually believed you."

"Wait, really?" Isaac said. "Being a werewolf is pretty distinctive. I'm not sure what else you could have thought it was. I'm pretty sure there's no disease that gives you hyper-immunity, super strength, and enhanced senses with no physical drawbacks."

"See, Isaac, get's it!" Stiles exclaimed. "How can you not know if you're a supernatural creature?"

"Nymphs look like humans, act like humans, and are pretty fucking human in general, if you haven't noticed," Scott argued. "It's highly likely that she thinks she's just a really good dancer and runner. And what about the possibility that she isn't even a supernatural creature?"

"Most nymphs have strangely colored skin, like blue-ish or pink-ish," Stiles yells. "Have you ever looked at Gale, her skin is like this weird tan, like a light blue-ish tan, it's like a really light blue with a peachy tan. That's pretty nymph-ish to me."

"Loads of people have weird skin pigments and aren't supernatural creatures," Isaac points out. "It's a relatively common genetic mutation. But if she is a nymph, and one that controls air, I mean that kind of sounds awesome in a fight. She could be a really great ally. And aren't nymphs, like, supposed to be immortal or something? People used to think that werewolves were immortal, but it turned out they could just heal really well. So maybe, she heals like us."

"But we still don't know if she is or isn't a nymph for sure," Scott said. "How about we talk to Deaton tomorrow after school? He knows a lot about the supernatural world; maybe he can tell us if nymphs are real, and if they are, you know, he could tell us how to identify one."

"This newfound initiative to make a plan is making me very attracted you to right now. Normally, you make me do all this shit," Stiles said with a laugh. "You want to try making out for a second, or something?"

"Is this my cue to leave the room? I can go downstairs, I guess," Isaac retorted jokingly.

"Anyways, next Thursday, we have an away cross country meet. It's like a four hour bus ride there. It'll give us a chance to talk Deaton about nymphs then to figure out what to do about Gale," Stiles explained.

"Why not just talk to her tomorrow, on Friday, right after Deaton?" Scott asked.

"Well, Stiles said that she thinks the druid guy contacted her today. If we ask her tomorrow, that'd be kind of suspicious, wouldn't it?" Isaac said.

"Totally, we got to be smart about this, Scotty," Stiles said. "By the way, I like Isaac. We should have brought him into the group ages ago. He's smarter than you and almost as smart as me."

"Hey," Scott and Isaac said at the same time, both only mildly offended.

"Stiles, your dad says to get your ass home now," Mrs. McCall yelled from downstairs. "He just called, you are in trouble for running off."

"Ugh, tell him I'm leaving now," Stiles yelled back, running out the house to drive home. "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Love you, man."

"You too, bro," Scott shouted in return before turning to Isaac. "So, Gale, huh?"

Isaac's face flushed, "Well, I don't know, she's really nice and tall."

"Nice and tall?" Scott chuckled.

"I'm like six feet one, okay. She's gotta be at least five foot nine, and, don't even get me started on her legs," Isaac defended.

"Nah, it's cool. I hope it works out, you know," Scott said with a smile.

"Yeah, me too."


End file.
